


Dismembered Fairy Tale Journal: Beauty and the Beast

by storytellingeyes



Series: Dismembered Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, Disney, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, Other, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, dismembered fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellingeyes/pseuds/storytellingeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beauty has agreed to the conditions of the Prince and has come to live with him as part of the agreement set forth between her, the Prince and her father. Beauty soon learns that she's living with no Prince, but a "Beast".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dismembered Fairy Tale Journal: Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a journal collection I've saved over the years called "Dismembered Fairy Tales". It's my own retelling of fairy tales (and a few others), in a darker, erotic setting. The stories are short, as they are usually journals or one shots, however, they are potential to be written more in depth later on, or written per requests by others.

I was so certain the bile from the snake's head was poison. Even as it leaked the humiliation of conquest into my mouth, it stood erect from the beast. The grunts of the beast were hoarse, his dead weight dropped onto me.  


Had I not been holding my breath, he would have killed me, and worse if I ran.  


However, he was too heavy and too strong to get away from. His thick claws grazed my sweat-matted locks. I could only presume it was a gesture of comfort, but for whom?  


The entirety of my body ached. There were scars that would not heal, the blood of my youth spilled upon the stone floor, and the unrelinquished fire of an arousal spell within my velvet walls. He could make me feel such fire; one of hate, one of passion, one of scolding skin. Nothing dissipated the blaze in my body as he ravaged the labyrinth of my mind. I felt the sensations throughout my raw lips, my strangled neck, my burnt wrists, my shredded abdomen and raped heat. Yet, I still craved the passion; I felt sick.  


The time came to pass when I started looking forward to his sadistic ritual. It was my only contact with another being, besides the crumbling grey walls and my mirrored reflection of a red, tossed aside rag. I never saw tears in the reflection anymore; the person looking back at me was defeated and broken. The villagers’ compliments of beauty now seemed laughable.

I was too frightened to expose my vision and reveal another terrible nightmare that had occurred. He must have fallen asleep on top of me, his breathing so deep and aggressive, but he continued to wipe the sweat from my temple. Then his bristly knuckles extended to take away the tears from my stained cheeks.  


I could not fathom why he did that, so my crystal eyes kept weeping.  


Every time I whimpered he would growl or threaten to eat my sockets dry.  


I bit my lip.  


Suddenly the comforting weight from him was gone. The cool air rushed, attacking the sweat. I was frozen. As soon as I saw the deformed, hairy beast flee—slamming the door behind him, I curled into my knees, gripping the sheets. I was dead; or so I hoped. Too many nights of vicious play had numbed me to crying fits. The copper scent was numb to my nose now too; also waking, covered in dry, cracked blood.  


There was no remnant of beauty anymore, and no truth of a prince beneath the beast.

©cheriebelles 2016


End file.
